And the Beat Goes On
by Saiyasha Misamurai
Summary: Resident Evil: Five S.T.A.R.S. had been a huge success at the box office. Now the producer wants a sequel. Chris is glad his sister will be joining him on the set, but when the writers add some last-second changes to the script, all hell breaks loose. AU


**Prologue**

"And... scene! Alright, Chris; we need you in the back for a quick read-through, and then everyone can go home," Howard stood, waving his arms. He was wearing a baseball cap that said director, but it was covered in a million buttons and pins; mostly depicting cartoon characters.

There were a few cheers from the actors and crew, and Chris wiped his forhead.

"Finally," he muttered, pulling off the holster on his shoulders. The thing had been a little too tight over the last nine months, and the costumers had refused to make a new one. Partly because they were on a low budget; but mostly, Chris thought, it was because the head costumer had a thing for Jill.

"Hey, Chris; after your voice-over, you wanna go out? I could use a drink," Jill offered, jumping out of the stunt copter and landing next to him.

"Sorry; I'm meeting Claire later. Oh; hey, that reminds me. You should come along too. She's been dying to see everybody."

"Sounds good. It'll be nice to see her."

"What do you say, Sheva? You wanna meet my sister?" Chris looked behind Jill.

"Sure! When?" the woman beamed, hopping from the prop.

"Tonight at eight; I'm picking her up from the airport," Chris explained. He pulled the knife out of the holster in his hand and started twirling it. "This thing is pretty cool. I think I'm gonna keep it."

"Did you say Claire?" someone asked. Chris turned around and saw Wesker approaching them, wiping off the remainder of the makeup on his chest.

"Yeah. She's back from Paris."

"Hmm... do you mind if I tag along? I wouldn't mind seeing her again," the blond man asked, suddenly searching the vicinity for a napkin of some sort.

"Of course not." Chris re-holstered the knife and clapped Wesker once on the shoulder with a quick smile. "She'll be happy to see you again." He walked past his acquaintance into the back room.

When he was gone, Wesker looked at the black and red paint covering his skin; his attempts to clean himself off had only served to smear the ink and forge a bigger mess. He turned to Jill and Sheva.

"Would either of you happen to have a towel?"

* * *

It was eight thirty. Leon and Ada were running late.

"I swear, I'm gonna kill 'em," Jill muttered, folding her arms. She wasn't in a particularly good mood to begin with; she just found out her cousin was in jail again.

Chris gave her a calming look before looking over at Sheva. "Aren't you cold?" he asked in concern; there was snow on the ground and she was only wearing a tank-top.

"Maybe a little, but I'll just get in the car if it gets too bad," she shrugged.

Chris shook his head before looking at his watch; he was considering just leaving when his phone rang.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Chris? Where are you?"

"Sorry, Claire; the Leon and Ada are taking their time."

"What; you were going to bring them?"

"Well, it doesn't look like it now. Will you be alright by yourself?"

"Oh, I'm not alone. Wesker's here."

Chris paused. "Wesker...?"

"Yeah; he said you told him he could come. He was here when I arrived."

"I see..."

"Look; I'm really tired, Chris. Do you mind if Wesker drops me off and I see you tomorrow?"

Chris hesitated. Wesker, alone, with his baby sister? He'd never had a problem with the man, really, and Claire was smart enough to handle herself, but nevertheless there was an alarm going off in his mind.

"Are you sure you can't wait until I get there?"

"Chris, Wesker's already here. I might as well just go with him. I'll see you tomorrow; I promise. We'll have breakfast and I'll tell you all about Paris," she assured.

He was still a little uneasy, but he pushed his concerns aside, "All right. Drive safe; I'll see you tomorrow."

"Right. 'Night, Chris," she said. Soon, there was a dialtone and Chris flipped his phone shut.

"What is it?" Jill asked curiously. Both women were looking at him.

"Change of plans; she just wants to go home. Sorry for bringing you out here for nothing, Sheva; we'll drop you off at your place," Chris offered sheepishly.

"If you would, that would be great. And don't worry about it; things change. I'm sure I'll get to meet Claire another time."

"Thanks for understanding," he said gratefully. "Guess I'd better call Leon..."

* * *

Claire pocketed her phone. They were standing in the terminal; Claire was holding a rolling suitcase, and Wesker stood in hsi leather trench-coat. Security had been eyeing him suspiciously, but nobody said anything.

"All right; let's go," Claire smiled.

Wesker waved his hands in front of him in a comical gesture, "After you, dear heart."

Claire smiled at the pet name. He'd adopted it ever since he read the Code: Veronica script.

They had finally reached his mercedes; Claire was releived to see that, although he certainly possessed the means, he hadn't hired a driver. They really weren't necessary, and the fact that there was someone in Hollywood who didn't mind doing simple tasks for themselves was refreshing.

"Beware; I might pass out," she said, only half-joking.

Wesker smiled, "That's alright. You look tired."

Claire nodded, "I am. I've been up since four; Elodie was cramming in as much sight-seeing as possible. That girl can shop."

Wesker chuckled, "I can't say I'm surprised; she was a child star, wasn't she? She's been spoiled."

"You can say that again. Anyway, I'm just glad to be home. I could really use a cheeseburger," Claire said wistfully.

"Is that so?" Wesker asked. He opened the passenger door for her. When she was inside, he shut the door and set her suitcase in the backseat. "I could take you somewhere, if you want. How does the fifth taste sound?" he suggested. He was in the driver's seat now, buckling his seatbelt. Yeesh, he was certainly quick.

"The fifth what?" Claire asked, confused.

Wesker gave a slight smile. "You'll see," he said, pulling out of his parking space.

* * *

"Umami's...?" Claire cocked a brow. It sounded like a sushi joint.

"I've found it satisfactory. I beleive you will too," Wesker assured, opening her door for her again.

'Quite the gentleman,' she observed mentally. "I guess I could give it a try," she said, getting out of his car. He had his hand on her should, almost as if her were guiding her inside.

They decided to sit outside; it was less crowded, and Claire felt like watching the moon. Wesker had left his coat in the car; he seemed perfectly at ease, in spite of the winter weather. Claire, o the other hand, was shivering slightly. Her small, red windbreaker wasn't doing much for the cold.

"Are you okay? Wecan go inside if you want," Wesker offered.

"No; I'll be fine. Really," she added when Wesker opened his mouth.

"If you say so," he trailed off. A waitress arrived and handed them each a menu.

"Any reccomendations?" she asked, eyeing hers.

"I was going to order a potsticker plate, but you wanted a sandwich, right? Those are at the bottom," he said.

Claire followed his direction and saw what she had been craving... and then saw the price.

"Er- um... Maybe I'll just get what you're getting," Claire stammered. She only had ten bucks on her, and she wasn't about to order a sixteen-dollar burger.

"What's wrong, dear heart?" Wesker asked. His menu was sitting neatly in front of him; he hadn't touched it.

"Oh! Uh, nothing... It just seems a little spendy, is all," she said sheepishly.

"Don't worry about that; this is my treat. Order whatever you like," he said encouragingly.

She looked back at her menu, skeptical. She still didn't feel comfortable; yes, she wanted the burger, but it was more than double the price of what Wesker was getting. It was too much.

When the waitress came for their orders, Wesker gave her his simply, and both of them turned to look at Claire.

"I- ah..." she started, still completely at a loss.

"She'll have the cheeseburger," Wesker interrupted. The woman scribbled it down on her pad, "Anything else?"

"No, thank you."

"Alright. I'll have your orders soon," she smiled, picking up their menus and walking away.

Wesker looked at Claire. "Don't be so self-concious," he chided in a teasing manner. "If you want something, take it; you won't hear any objections from me."

She smiled shyly. It was a little embarassing, but she supposed things could have been worse. At any rate, she was getting her cheesburger.

They'd engaged in idle chat; Wesker was talking about the movie they'd just completed today. His opinion of the majority of the people on set seemed a bit condescending, but Claire didn't really mind.

"So how was Paris, aside from your friend's shopping habits?"

"Not bad. I picked up a little french while I was there. Did you know the word for late was retard?"

"So what's 'retard' in French?"

"I don't know," Claire shrugged. "Maybe it's 'late'."

The waitress reappeared with their food as the two laughed.

"Thank you," Claire said politely. The woman smiled before attending to another table.

At the arrival of their food, the conversation died down. Claire took a small bite of her burger; it really was wonderful. She'd have to remember this place.

She thought long and hard for something to say; Wesker was watching her, chewing his every bite carefully.

"You know what?" she said finally.

"What?"

"I think the last time we saw each other was on the set of Code: Veronica. That was more than ten years ago."

"I know. It doesn't seem like it, huh?"

Claire shook her head, "Not at all. We really should hang out more."

"You think so?"

"Well, why not? We're friends, right?"

Wesker gave her a contemplative look. _Were_ they friends? He'd never really thought about it, but he supposed if they hadn't been before, then they must be now.

"I see your point; alright, let's visit more often."

Claire smiled, "Wonderful! Do you want to have breakfast with me and Chris tomorrow?"

* * *

They were standing in front of her apartment on the second floor of the complex. It was small, at least, for movie star standards, but Claire seemed to like the size.

"Thanks for dinner, Wesker. I appreciate it," Claire said. She was digging through her backpack for her keys.

"Really, dear heart; we're friends. Call me Albert," he said.

Claire smiled, "Right. Sorry, _Albert_." She felt a little funny, calling him by his first name.

Successfully locating her keys, she unlocked her door and pushed it open. 'Oh, crap,' she groaned inwardly. Her living room was a mess. There were dirty clothes everywhere; she hadn't gotten a chance to clean up before she left.

"Uh... you can come in, if you want. But I'm warning you; the place is a mess."

Wesker looked at his watch, "That's okay; you look tired. You should go to bed. I'm going home anyway; I need to take a shower." There was still some paint on his chest he'd failed in removing.

"Okay, then. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Of course," Wesker smiled. "Good night, dear heart."

He was at his car when he heard her again.

"Wesker!" she was leaning over the outside railing in front of her door, looking down at him in the parking lot.

He looked at her carefully; her face was rosy from the cold.

"What is it?"

"You promise to hang out more?" she asked.

Wesker was taken aback. Why was she so concerned? "Absolutely," he told her. She seemed to relax.

"All right. Good night, Albert." At that, she disappeared from view.

Wesker stared up at the place she had stood, slightly puzzled. Then he shook his head, a slight smile on his face.

"Good night, dear heart," he said again, so quietly only he could hear.

**:D YAY!**

**Sorry; felt like 'yay'ing.**


End file.
